


Between bouquets, teacups and knives

by lillaseptember



Series: Between money, drugs and blood [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Abigail, Explicit Language, Gen, Gore, Murder Family, Murder Husbands, Organized Crime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-23 09:53:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4872364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lillaseptember/pseuds/lillaseptember
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by a tumblr post. The Murder Family as organized criminals.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between bouquets, teacups and knives

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this tumblr post](http://stolligaseptember.tumblr.com/post/128907623019/dweeby-sweetconformity-hannibal-au). All credits for the AU to the respective bloggers.

Breaking into the small townhouse in the obscurer parts of the outskirts of the city had been astonishingly easy. No fancy alarm or ridiculous booby traps. Just a regular pin tumbler lock and a frail door chain, and he was inside within a minute.

Sneaking in through the backdoor, Cordell was met with surprising ordinariness. The backdoor was connected to a small corridor, an intricate blue wallpaper clothing the walls and a fresh bouquet of flowers adorning a massive chestnut drawer further down the hallway. A carpeted staircase rose to his left and his right opened up to an airy living room, furnished in an odd mixture of delicate antiques and rustic utility pieces.

He felt like he had stepped into any everyday family home. He had expected axes and butchering knives scattered all over and iron chains hanging from the ceilings. Or _something_.

He was just about to make his way up the stairs when a movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention.

Quickly turning around, he found himself face to face with a dainty teenage girl, 16-17 maybe, walking out of the living room out into the hallway, carrying a steaming porcelain cup close to her lips.

“Hello.”

Cordell was struck speechless for a moment. The girl just watched him calmly, as if the scene didn't bother or surprise her in the slightest. After managing to collect himself, Cordell finally spluttered out a raspy; "Who the fuck are you?”

Cordell was not in the mood for surprises, especially not one brought on by a snotty little brat

“Abigail,” the girl answered casually before bringing the cup closer to her lips, blowing softly, the steam curling around the porcelain skin of her face. 

“I have been told this is the residence of Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham."

Cordell felt the need to justify himself, even though he was unquestionably the housebreaker in the situation. He thought back on the information he had been given, but no, number 66 was correct. _But was he on the wrong street..._ Mentally kicking himself, he forced himself to focus again. He was a professional, goddamnit. But the imperturbability of the girl was starting to unnerve him.

“Oh it is.”

The girl took a nonchalant sip from her cup.

“Then _who the fuck_ are you?”

Cordell was growing impatient. He did not have time to deal with some bratty little girl who apparently thought hanging out in some cold blooded murderers lair was a good idea. He was just about to draw his gun and just be over with it when something glinted in the girl's eyes.

“We don’t curse in this house.”

Cordell was just about to wonder what the fuck she meant by that when something scalding hot attacked his face.

Screeching undignifiedly as the still boiling hot rose tea burned down his face, he tried to grasp at the gun stored away at the waistband of his pants. But before he had the opportunity to get his bearings, there was a sharp twinge in his side. And before he knew it, she had him pinned against the wall, a knife in his abdomen and his face halfway burned off. 

Despite the fact that she was only, like, half his size.

“Who sent you?” Her voice was dark and commanding, and she twisted the knife in his gut as her green eyes drilled into his, piercing and luminous even in the dark.

He almost admired her. She had some real spunk. But he was not gonna spill to some little brat, especially not to some little girl of all people.

Reaching up a hand to wipe away the remains of the tea from his face, he tried to collect whatever dignity he had left before he would start wriggling out of this embarrassing and vexing situation. But he didn't even get halfway before the girl, with lightning fast reflexes, produced a second knife and used it to nail his hand against the blue wallpaper. Crying out even more ignobly in pain as he felt the blade just graze by his bones, he couldn't help but wonder just _what_ kind of kid _this_ kid was.

“You ruined my tea.” She flashed her somewhat crooked teeth as she growled at him, he could still feel the burning on his face as she twisted the knife in his gut upwards slightly, and he could feel the blood slowly rising in his throat. “Answer me!”

Feeling slightly light headed, Cordell slipped on the small pool of blood that was slowly accumulating by his feet. He slid along the wall, and Abigail followed him, keeping the knife buried in his gut, but thankfully removing the one that kept his hand nailed to the wall. There was a feral look in her eyes as her movement matches his as he finally thumped against the floor. Awkwardly fondling his pierced hand in his lap, he was too dazed with pain to try and fight her.

But swallowing down the pathetic whimper that threatened to escape his lips, he stubbornly met her gaze as she inspected him. And after a moment of just staring at each other, one of the knives still tucked snugly in his side, the wild look in her eyes retracted slowly. Believing she had finally reached her breaking point, Cordell allowed himself to smile smugly despite the pain.

And then she stabbed his cheek.

He was too surprised to cry out, the pain sudden and severe, the blade clattering in between his teeth.

Meeting her gaze again as his cheek throbbed hot against the cool metal, he found her eyes to be completely void of emotions, the luminous green eyes not holding even the slightest trace of warmth as she inspected him.

“I’m going to retract the knife. And when I do, you better _talk_." Abigail’s voice was growling and hot against his ear, and Cordell hated to admit that she frightened him more than many full grown men had ever done.

Tears swelling up in his eyes, and the entire right side of his face numb from the throbbing pain, Cordell suddenly had the irrational desire to cry out for his mother.

So when the blade was yanked out of his face, rattling against his teeth on the way out, he finally caved in.

“Verger! Verger, goddamnit!” Gurgling on his own blood that was rapidly gathering in his mouth, he spat a mouthful of it out, splattering all across Abigail's face.

She didn't even flinch.

Mason had decided that enough was enough, and had established that it was finally time to completely ruin his sister. Mason had determined that he would take everything away from her; her business, her family, and eventually, her life. But the business would be devastated first, and in order to get to Alana and thereby the business, they needed to take out the hitmen first.

Cordell was just supposed to do the reconnoiter, snuff out their weaknesses, set some surprises for them if possible. Some of the rumors around town was that they were actually lovers, and not just partners in crime.

But not one had mentioned _a kid_.

Abigail slowly got up from the floor, retracting the knife from his belly as she did. He quickly pressed his undamaged hand to the wound, already feeling the effects from the blood loss, drawing a rattling breath. She just looked at him coolly as she dried off the knife on her jeans.

He pondered over the profanities he would have shouted at her if he hadn't been too busy trying not to choke on his own blood. Meanwhile, her eyes trailed to the piece of wall behind him.

Her eyes softened slightly, and she seemed to relax somewhat as her shoulders slacked in obvious annoyance.

“You got blood all across the tapestry. Urgh, dad’s gonna _kill_ me.”

Turning around in defeat, she quickly walked out of the hallway, stopping only to pick up the shards of the broken teacup on the floor, setting them next to the bouquet of flowers on the chestnut drawer, along with her knives.

Cordell quickly lost track of time as he was suddenly left by himself, trying, but not having much success, to rise from the floor. He felt like he was perforated all over, losing blood much too rapidly, his breath rattling with his labor. 

That some little brat had managed to put him in this position. Especially some little girl of all people.

He didn't know how much time passed, it could have been ten minutes or maybe two hours, but he snapped to attention again at the sound of the front door opening, the soft murmurs of conversation breaking the deafening silence of the house.

Cordell spat out another mouthful of blood, and prepared himself for one final attempt at _getting the fuck out of there._

“Dads!” But Abigail’s clear voice made him stop short. _Wait a fucking minute. Dads? But_ they _couldn’t be, could they..._ “We got an intruder.”

Cordell hadn’t even gotten the chance to start crawling his way across the hallway floor as three dark silhouettes was suddenly standing above him.

The infamous Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham. _The Murder Husbands._ Who had set up their own little morbid version of a family. Cordell thought he would have thrown up if he wasn’t already busy bleeding out.

“It’s Mason stirring trouble again,” Abigail announced as Hannibal crouched down next to him, his dark eyes holding a curious glint as he inspected him. Abigail had not bothered to dry off the blood Cordell had spat on her, and it still scattered her face, like crimson little freckles. 

“That he never learn,” Hannibal murmured, his eastern bloc accent shining through just slightly. He reached out to grab hold of Cordell, and he would have flinched if he had had the reflexes. Hannibal tilted his head to the side to inspect the stab would and burn marks along his cheek. “Beautiful work, darling.” 

“Thank you.” Abigail beamed up like a little sun, and almost purred as Will reached out to gently pat her head, an adoring smile displayed on his lips. 

Cordell's field of vision was rapidly shrinking, and he was slowly losing the feeling of his legs and arms. He bathed in a pool of his own blood, and as he inspected the broadly smiling Abigail again, he wondered how on earth she had managed to put him in this situation. _Some real spunk indeed_. And through the haze and the mouthful of blood he finally managed to murmur; "Fuckin' freaks." 

All three pair of eyes snapped to him immediately, all trace of affection suddenly erased from their features. 

“We don’t curse in this house,” Hannibal slowly stated as he rose up to his full height. He turned around to face the duo behind him as he pulled out the pocket square from his crisp white suit jacket, slowly drying off the blood from his hands. “We haven’t had a feast in quite a while now, have we?” 

“Yes!” Abigail exclaimed excitedly, lighting up again, basically bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. Will just smiled slowly, meeting Hannibal’s gaze, the two of them sharing a long and _intimate_ conversation without uttering a single word. 

When Will turned to Cordell, he offered a smile that frightened him worse than anything else had done that night. 

“Don’t worry, Cordell. We’ll get word back to Mason.” Slowly crouching next to him, Will inspected him carefully, and Cordell didn’t feel like more than a flimsy slab of meat. Will tilted his head slowly, and Cordell could feel his heart pumping the small amount of blood that he had left in a frantic panic. “Eventually.” 

And all Cordell remembered after that was pain. 

**Author's Note:**

> It's 3 AM. I rest my case


End file.
